


Pick Ourselves Undone

by elegantwings, orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Common but quietly kept knowledge states that if Derek Hale has a room that encloses himself and he were somehow allowed to enter it, then at some point Stiles acquired the key to said room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick Ourselves Undone

There’s a blip between the thoughts Stiles thinks and the things that he says. When he tries, they fluster in this in between space like there’s a ‘thought purgatory’ lurking around in his brain just waiting to snag up the most important words and transform them into stilted half phrases beginning with, “DUDE!” and tapering off into mumbled jokes and insecurities.

Stiles thinks Derek is beautiful. Instead he uses words like, “unfairly attractive” and motions erratically with his hand while stuttering, “he’s…you KNOW! All pretty and wolfy.”   
There is all of this landscape laying underneath the two of them that they only speak about when they’re alone. Even then, Stiles teases and Derek feels grossly uncomfortable because he’s not used to openly communicating, to letting someone in and then finding out that he understands, he accepts and the little digs and jokes are just that. These moments when they’re lying across from one another on a bed, sharing stories and half secrets are the afternoons and nights when Derek is gentle and soft. He’s sometimes too harsh with Stiles, too gruff or cold, but Stiles laughs, even when it hurts a little, and rolls his eyes and understands. Then he pushes for more from Derek and seems to forgive the slights or complete lack of tact.   
Derek hears Stiles’ stories, longwinded and branching off into tangents, sometimes losing themselves along the way. He listens and he follows the path of speech through verbose tundras and he walks gracefully behind Stiles as he stumbles over the hills and valleys of forgotten points and loud interrupting laughter. Stiles forges ahead, breathless and excited, and Derek quietly follows. Sometimes Derek pursues the uneven voice, asking outright for Stiles to fill the quiet, give him stories and breathing like someone might fill a hole in a yard with dirt. Stiles eagerly sifts the soil of his anecdotes into the silence, pausing to pat it down flat and firm every few minutes.He digs up things only for Derek’s ears, and somehow Derek sees and smells and feels them, too. Stiles pushes his voice into the cracks in Derek’s skin and he feels a warmth and giddiness race from his toes to his face when Derek laughs at a joke or smiles at him like his talking could reach the sadness and slowly tease it out of Derek’s bones. When Derek asks, Stiles traipses through the forests and mountains of his own chattering, unselfish and unworried, and Derek follows.

Derek will share his words quietly, sometimes hesitantly, and Stiles listens like he’s receiving a gift. There’s a sanctity to being chosen to house Derek’s stories and secrets. Stiles feels them fill him and he can sense something inside of himself grow with each word that’s delivered. Now and then, when Derek chooses, the words tumble out, and it’s the only time Stiles thinks Derek seems unsure or maybe a little vulnerable. It almost makes Derek  _more _ vulnerable than other people when he shares these things because he’s so consciously choosing to do so and he is deciding to let them fall from his lips, trusting that Stiles will keep them and hold tight.

Derek watches Stiles operate on a level he’s never known. Stiles’ sadness haunts him behind an amplified excitement that is both sincere and a defense built up. It’s like Stiles has done the opposite of what Derek did. Derek is comprised of premeditation and careful narration. He finds himself rewriting his own actions and words, creating what others see. At one point, most people weren’t allowed to see him anymore, only what he constructed for them.   
Stiles found himself desperate and in need of a shelter. He glanced around and took hold of what he had and found what he could, then he built something to present to others. Stiles is resourceful recycling and near chaotic impulse, but he is also careful. He might be haphazardly shoving the happy out there in front of himself for all to see, but he knows what he’s grasping at when he reaches back to find something. Stiles knows what he’s doing and with luck and cleverness, he achieves much of the same end goal as Derek: he has a front, and he’s a genius at being the man behind the curtain running the show.

Derek looks inside himself and he doesn’t see much that isn’t dark or empty. He wakes up some days and feels like it’s too much to even move, much less stand and pretend he is anything more than nothing. The sadness permeates him but it’s wrought with an anger and a failure that’s too big to name and he tries his damnedest to look away from it, but sometimes he falls into it and he’s not wont to try very hard to find his way back out. He gives it halfhearted attempts, but his self preservation is locked tightly into this very fact: Derek Hale does not think he is worth anything.

If there was a room that enclosed Derek and he were allowed to enter, he would force himself not to cower, put on his hardest face and glide in with a clipboard and pen in hand. He would confidently glare at the walls of himself, and take stock of the dark furnishings while maintaining an unsurprised expression. He already has his list prepared, a receipt of fallacy and corruption. Derek catalogues the shadows, pretending he’s not frightened. He carefully charts them out and audits himself accordingly, using his time to glare down the dark hallways branching off from the room and brooding over what they could contain. He is careful and calculated. It’s all measured expressions hanging on one wall and predetermined phrases on another. Derek has rewritten himself several times over and he keeps careful track of it all.

Common but quietly kept knowledge states that if Derek Hale has a room that encloses himself and he were somehow allowed to enter it, then at some point Stiles acquired the key to said room. Then after Stiles waits what he deems “too long” (too long is relative,you could fit his capacity for patience into a matchbox without taking the matches out of it first.) he slides in the key and jangles the lock until it gives. Then he bursts through the door with startling gusto. Derek whirls around and blatantly wonders who the hell gave Stiles a key or why he’s even here before abandoning that question to focus on glaring darkly. Stiles glances at him and grins, wide and excited. Then he yells out, “DUDE! This is  _awesome_. Did you even SEE that over there?!” and he runs off to a corner to examine a table or the carpet or a tapestry on the wall.  
Derek feels flustered and exasperated, but he solemnly continues to take inventory of himself, choosing to ignore the intrusion. Stiles pointedly ignores the other man’s lack of enthusiasm and continues to explore and shout loudly whenever he finds something new. Derek can hear Stiles’ laugh all the way across the expanse of carpet and old, broken things. Stiles is digging through a pile of ancient, dusty chairs and end tables and Derek can hear him mumbling and chuckling to himself. He feels irritated by Stiles’ irreverence before he quickly remembers that this  _is _ how Stiles is reverent. Stiles gives his laughter and silliness where it has no place being because that’s all he knows how to do when situations grow serious or intense. It’s both a defense mechanism and a clear expression of genuine joy. Stiles looks up and smiles before shooing away Derek’s glare by waving a hand in his direction, almost dismissive, yelling, “Go on Grumpy, keep missing out on the party, I know it’s killing you to stop dwelling and brooding for five seconds just to frown at me.”

Derek growls and Stiles rolls his eyes, then he lets out another laugh and continues happily and eagerly digging through the rubble of Derek’s life.

Later, they’re sitting beside one another quietly and Derek is feeling tired and worn. Stiles nudges him a little and sighs, “You know, I’m no Luna Lovegood who just kind of breezed in gracefully and stared dreamily and wisely at everything then had a delightful but mildly obscure line to feed you that will give you great insight to yourself. I’m not even close to that, dude. I’m more of the fall in through the doorway and break a few vases with stray limbs kind of person.”  
Derek smiles a little, “I was always more of a Ron fan, anyway.”  
Stiles nods, “Ah the bumbling but effervescent and AWESOME sidekick who somehow screws it up the most, sounds familiar,” then looks at him somberly, “you realize this makes you Hermione, right?” He gets a rough shove as his only response. 

“All I’m saying is that you come in here with your clipboards and your lists and you’re taking inventory like that’s going to affirm something for you. That’s like the circlejerk of introspection, dude.” Derek raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him before Stiles throws his hands up and sighs.

“Just hear me out, you’re spending all your time staring down the darkness and remembering the pain, trying to teach yourself something or remind yourself why you stay isolated and alone. You won’t get anywhere with that. Nothing in your inventory will tell you anything new about yourself, man. You’re just pouring over the same information. This is all stuff  _about_  you. This isn’t what’s inside of you. You stand here taking lists and checking off your bullshit. But then you’ve got me. I get to be aimless. I get to really see you. You’ve got some nice tables over there, by the way, we could probably refurbish them, put in a little creativity, sell them on Craigslist and make a couple hundred. Regular entrepreneurs.”

Stiles takes a breath and releases, feeling the pull of more words, but he stays quiet knowing Derek is forming something to say. He can see it in Derek’s shoulders, and the way he tips his chin up just so before he inhales deep and says, “You think I don’t see me? I live with me and what I’ve done, what I’ve lost. I live with what I am.”

Stiles hums a small agreement. “Yeah, but you’re auditing things people shouldn’t audit. Get yourself a nice pretty dress now and then, you know? Just…be NICE to yourself. You’re not all bad. Maybe a little cranky and we should really work on teaching you how to have fun, but you’re not all bad.”

They sit a little longer before Stiles looks up again, “You can live with yourself forever, but you’ll never get to experience you. No matter how clever you are or how great you are at faking it with people. It doesn’t matter how hard and awesome you are. I get to experience you. It’s like, an early birthday present or something…all the time. You just really suck at the whole, ‘look deep inside myself and analyze shit’ part of brooding. You’re great at the lurking, though!”

Derek shakes his head, and bites back a smile. Then he realizes something and scowls and looks at Stiles accusingly, “Why do  _you _ get to experience ‘me’?”

Stiles isn’t phased. He shrugs and smiles easily, “I don’t know. I don’t really spend a lot of time questioning these things. I just enjoy the ride..try not to get killed when my mouth runs away from me.”

With Stiles around, Derek learns to actually look at the pieces instead of just taking inventory. He sees all the things he should have thrown away, and does, he sees the treasures he’s forgotten and treasures them. He gives it all to Stiles, but Stiles won’t let him but he borrows, borrows, borrows. Who wants Derek’s dusty, old rug? Stiles sleeps on it, instinctively rolling his face away from the sunlight that makes him glow.

—

Later with their backs pressed up against the couch, Stiles turns suddenly to Derek and looks at him. Derek throws him a questioning glare and Stiles smiles.   
“What?”  
Stiles looks at him calmly and levelly states, “I’m going to kiss you.”  
For a split second he sees the panic and frenzy pass over Derek’s features before he quickly schools his face into a blank stare. “What. No you’re not.”  
Stiles grins, “Yeah, I really am. Just…sit still and don’t shift because I’m too hot to handle.”  
Derek looks momentarily horrified, then irritated. Then Stiles leans in until their shoulders press together awkwardly and he has to readjust and sit up on his knees facing Derek. Derek who is sitting there looking, as usual, unimpressed but also a little confused.

Stiles leans in again and laughs, “You’re not pushing me over yet. So this is good, right? Good signs? Is that a green light? I’m gonna say it’s a green light. You’re a little tricky sometimes, though, keep me on my toes, wait until I get an in and then-”  
“Stiles. You’re babbling.” Derek doesn’t smile when he says it, but he wants to.   
“And you’re not pushing me away so I’m gonna do this now…okay?” He’s stopped a few inches in front of Derek’s face. Derek just stares at him blankly and Stiles keeps thinking this is so NOT helpful or encouraging for a first kiss, but then feels the disorganized confidence surge up and thinks  _ fuck it _ . He leans down and presses his lips softly to Derek’s at first, before deepening the kiss a little more. It’s fumbling, like Stiles, but warm and Stiles figures at least he got their mouths lined up right so this is possibly a success.

He has a hand on the side of Derek’s neck and his fingers dance along the juncture of tendon and muscle there, celebrating on their own, the freedom to touch. Stiles has to swallow down a joyful laugh at the right he’s being handed, to not only get Derek’s words, but now his mouth and Derek’s hands on his ribcage, pulling him closer.

The laugh bubbles from his throat and into Derek’s mouth anyway, because of Derek’s hands start-stopping against his ribs, tickling. He gets it. He does. Derek wants this, even though he’d never admit it, and he’s afraid, even though he’d never admit it, and he’s fighting the kiss just as much as he’s giving in to it. It’s a passive fight. He lets Stiles take the lead, as if Stiles really has any idea what he’s doing. Because he’s kissed before, of course he has, but he hasn’t kissed Derek Hale, hasn’t tried to say, “Yeah I get you, I accept you and I’m here because I want to be,” with the slide of his lips against someone else’s lips.

Derek pulls back, and even though Stiles can’t see his mouth he knows he’s frowning. “Why are you laughing?” he asks in the air between them.

“Because I was enjoying the kiss, a lot,” he leans forward and he kisses the frown, because it deserves it just as much as any other expression Derek could make.

Derek doesn’t ask any more questions, gives in to Stiles like he always does. But his hands are surer, his grip stronger, strong enough that Stiles will remember the feeling of fingers pressed into his arm and the way the kiss turns to shorter kisses, to nips and teeth and laughter again, because Stiles meant it. He’s laughing because he’s happy, but he’s also laughing just a little bit at Derek.

Derek sighs and drops his head against Stiles shoulder. “You’re ruining it.”

“Am not.” Stiles gasps as Derek bites into his neck. “Hey, hey, don’t do any permanent damage.”

“You asked for it.” Derek keeps going, and it’s totally not fair because it feels amazing and Derek didn’t even act like he wanted this in the first place (even though Stiles totally knew he did), and it’s taking way less time for him to get with the program than Stiles expected (although not really.) 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Rosali (elegantwings) wrote the end of the kiss for me after I panicked and forgot how kissing works despite doing it a lot. She's a peach.
> 
> This is for a former friend.


End file.
